“Is that the Aurora? Ingomar, tell me. Oh, how bright and how—joyful—Father——”
He was gone!
He had seen the Aurora; but it was the morning dawn of a happier life.
Six weeks after this, and when the captain of the Walrus had given the explorers up for lost, after searching the snows in vain, for winter storms had obliterated every track, ten men with two dog-sledges suddenly appeared above Glen Bell on the ridge of the great tableland.
They rested there.
They knew they were seen.
In the stillness of the early summer’s morning they could hear the wild shouts of greeting that arose from their shipmates.
And you may easily guess that assistance was speedily on its way to the top of the valley.
I leave you to guess also the kind of welcome accorded to men and dogs.
Why, Slap-dash himself came in for hugging, and Wallace hugged every one indiscriminately all round. Dr. Wright, Ingomar, Curtis, and the boys were all sadly worn and sallow. They had but little life in them. Even their courage appeared to have left them. They smiled, it is true, but it was the smile of sickly old men.
When they were helped on board at last, and had a little food and wine, they begged for a bath and to be shaved. After this, and dressed in fresh clothing, they were in some measure restored.
Captain Bell and the other officers of the Sea Elephant had come on board, and to them Ingomar, who was stronger than the rest, told the sad story of their terrible hardships, and their struggle to reach the ships. When he spoke of poor MacDonald, there was not an eye in the room that was not dimmed with tears.
But there! I myself must pull up. I would not have my very last chapter dimmed with sorrow.
Suffice it to say that not only these five real heroes, but the Yak-Yaks, including Slap-dash and Sheelah and Taffy, were in a month’s time their old selves again.
Of the animals, strange to say the Shetland ponies, Jack and Gill, had been least affected, while Wallace had returned hungry, Nick and Nora standing by delightedly as he ate the food prepared for him. The Newfoundland, as soon as he had finished, proposed a romp round the decks. Wallace tried, but soon lay down to rest and pant.
“Another day, I hope,” the honest Collie appealed, “but somehow I feel a little tired.”
When the good old Walrus was sawn out of her quarters and got into blue water again, with all and everything on board, and when the Sea Elephant lay quiet and still on the calm blue sea, a dinner was given on board the flagship.
The blessing asked by good Captain Walt was a prayer of thanks to the Almighty Power that had guided them through their trials, through sickness, danger, and difficulty.
I think all hands, fore and aft, who partook in the festivities, were just a little great-hearted at first, but all sadness was soon dispelled.
They had all done their duties bravely and well, as British and American sailors and soldiers always do.
So upon the whole a very happy evening was spent, the thought that next day they would bear up once more for the shores of Merrie England—England, home, and beauty—put life and spirit in them, and they retired at last, happy and hopeful.
I don’t think that any one on board the Walrus or Sea Elephant is ever likely to forget the sweetness of that Antarctic summer morning—the morning of the start. The sea with its beauty-tints of opal and blue, a sea studded with the snow-white of tiny bergs, the great mountains towering skywards, and the world, the marvellous world, of bird-life.
Do you know that, great though their sufferings and hardships had been, every one looked back to the scene of their adventures with just a little feeling akin to sorrow!
Up steam!
Round go the screws, churning up a frothy white wake, slowly move the ships away, slowly, and apparently reluctantly.
But, in a few hours’ time, those sturdy ships are merrily bobbing and curtseying to each advancing wave, as if they really know that, at long, long last, they are homeward bound.
And now nothing reigns aboard, fore or aft, except happiness and general jollity, in which even the dogs themselves take part.
Homeward bound! Hurrah!
* * * * *
When, in about two months’ time, the Walrus and Sea Elephant came quietly to anchor inside the breakwater of Plymouth, people gazed and wondered what these two strange ships could be.
But when the truth was rumoured abroad that they were the Antarctic voyagers, the wild welcome they received was enough to have turned the heads of any sailors on this earth.
* * * * *
Parting!
Yes, parting, yet parting—every one assured his shipmates—to meet again and talk over old times.
The boys, Charlie and Walter, going off to their “uncle’s” home.
Dr. Wright to duties elsewhere.
The scientists to London.
Slap-dash and his dogs and Yak-Yaks, including faithful Sheelah and Taffy, to London, with the scientists.
The boys got all the three dogs, and happy enough the dear fellows seemed to get on shore again.
Parting! Ah, yes, it is a sad word, and so I leave it.
* * * * *
Ingomar, the prodigal son, returned to his home.
“Can you forgive me now, father?” he said, after he had embraced his mother and sister.
“Bosh, boy!” cried the old man. “Go and sit down.” But there were tears in his eyes nevertheless.
Curtis was here, too.
Curtis came home to find he had succeeded to a baronetcy and another large estate. But this would not have stirred his spirits in the least had not Marie greeted him so joyously.
He used to call her his Marie. In six weeks’ time she was his Marie in reality.
They were married.
Ingomar says he will never marry. I simply smile.
He is owner, anyhow, of one of the most splendid yachts ever built in America or England.
No ’long-shore yacht. Not built for racing or speed, but comfort, pleasure, and beauty. Curtis has left the service. The yacht takes very long, delightful cruises, but wherever she goes with Ingomar, her master, both Arnold Curtis and his sweet wife go along as well.
My story is ended, my tale is told. I have only to say “Good-bye, my boy reader, and God be with us all.”
I trust and hope we’ll meet again another day.
[A] Skis, pronounced shees.
[B] “Making a voyage” (Greenlandish) = secure a good cargo.
[C] Young bears are now regularly trained by the Eskimos for heavy sleigh work.
[D] The sea always looks black among or near the ice.—G. S.
[E] Raxed = stretched.
[F] Bield = shelter.
[G] Old-fashioned.
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
first disovered=> first discovered {pg 162}
shout of the b’s’n’s=> shout of the bo’s’n’s {pg 139}